


you're terrible at keeping secrets (but then again, so am i)

by pseudoanalytics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Failure to Keep Secrets, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Star Wars References, M/M, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Trans Peter Parker, any Peter I write will always be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudoanalytics/pseuds/pseudoanalytics
Summary: Ned had a suspicion it had something to do with the night of homecoming, when Peter had gone off to battle evil in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.When Peter had realized he couldn’t rely on his suit alone anymore.When Peter had only had Ned in his ear to help guide him through Queens.





	you're terrible at keeping secrets (but then again, so am i)

**Author's Note:**

> where's all the ned/peter content you cowards

“No, dude, hear me out. What if it’s just a misprint on LEGO’s part? You know, a total mistake?”

“On something as important as a military title? Come on, man. You don’t confuse captains and commanders like that, especially if you’re a big company like LEGO.”

Ned sighed and leaned back, zooming out of a blurry picture of an upcoming Star Wars LEGO set on Reddit. “Poe wasn’t a major character in The Force Awakens. And I don’t think they ever call him Commander Dameron in that film anyway.”

Peter sputtered, waving his hands in front of himself. “But he’s gonna be a main guy in The Last Jedi, and we already know he’s gonna argue with his higher ups, which could definitely get him demoted—”

His retort was cut off by the loud clack of Michelle dropping her lunch tray at the other end of their table. “Do you guys talk about anything other than Star Wars during lunch?”

Ned snorted. “Sure. Sometimes we talk about…uh…” He hesitated and looked to Peter for help, but instead of being useful, Peter dropped eye contact and took a big bite out of his ham sandwich. “I’m sure we talk about other stuff.”

“Whatever. I’ve stopped caring,” said Michelle, waving a dismissive hand and cracking open the spine of her latest victim, the Associated Press Stylebook, which she was reading as if it was a particularly gripping novel. “Star Wars away.”

They all ate in silence for a while until Peter slid his phone back over to Ned. “Hey, did you see the latest leaked packaging of Paige Tico?”

The rest of lunch was spent screenshotting closeups and whispering excitedly, foreheads pressed together as they looked down at the pictures.

After school they met back up again, walking to the subway side by side as usual.

“And so I guess MJ wants to make updating the school’s Academic Decathlon club webpage a top priority,” Peter sighed, kicking a paper wrapper down the stairs. “Says it looks bad for a school that boasts about its strong math and science programs.”

“I mean, she’s got a point. That page has said ‘Coming Soon’ since before we even joined.”

They jostled through the crowd of people, squeezing into the train car. Ned noticed Peter grabbed a hand-strap even though he didn’t need one. For obvious reasons. Because he could stick to the floor. Probably.

Peter was the coolest person Ned knew.

As subtly as he was capable of, Ned leaned into Peter’s space to whisper in his ear. “Can you stick to the floor right now?”

“What?! Dude, no.” Peter gently shouldered him away, glancing around the train car anxiously, as if anyone cared what other people were doing in the New York subway.

Ned tried again, undeterred. “Okay, because see, I was wondering, do you really even need that strap? Or can you just like, stick down.”

Peter pushed him harder, shaking his head. “Not in these shoes. I can only do that barefoot or in… in the suit,” he muttered, dropping to a volume so low, Ned basically had to read his lips to understand him. “Stop asking things like that in public.”

“Okay. Gotcha.”

Peter had just relaxed when Ned leaned in again. “But if you were barefoot and like say, the train car _rolled_ …”

“Ned, oh my god!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

They were still arguing, albeit jokingly, about it as they walked into Aunt May’s apartment.

“Ned, what you’re not addressing is _why_ would I ever be barefoot in a subway car?” He spun quickly toward the kitchen to greet his aunt before they headed to his bedroom. “Oh, hi, Aunt May! That’d be disgusting, dude!”

“ _Obviously_ because you took off your shoes so you could stick down. Hello, May!”

She laughed and shook her head as she dried off a plate. “Hi, Ned. Hi, Peter. Can I get you boys anything?”

“Sure—” Ned started before Peter interrupted him, dragging him by the arm to his room.

“Thanks, Aunt May, but we’re good! We’ve got… homework… to do.”

“Mmhm. I’m sure.” She called out to them just before Peter could close his door. “Don’t stay up too late, you two. You’ll have to wake up early if you want time to _actually_ do your homework. Stay safe tonight, Peter.”

He smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks… I will… Love you.”

“I love you too.” Aunt May sent him a wobbly smile back, and then Peter shut the door. By the time he turned around, Ned already had his laptop out and open, the screen casting a blue glow across the bottom bunk.

“Let’s get to work,” Ned said in a deep voice.

Peter blinked, glancing away, then back, with his mouth slightly open.

“I’ve always wanted to say that,” Ned whispered with glee. “But seriously. Spider-man up.”

Snapping out of his stupor, Peter leaped up to knock a ceiling tile ajar and pull his suit down. He pulled his shirt and sweater up over his head with minimal difficulty and shucked his pants with ease.

Then came Ned’s favorite part.

It was a shame he couldn’t tell everyone he knew that he, Ned Leeds, got the immense privilege of watching Spider-Man do the “get this spandex onto my sweaty-with-adrenaline body” shimmy. 

His second favorite thing was always the “get this spandex _off_ my sweaty-with-adrenaline body” shimmy. But that would come later.

Peter really needed to thank Mr. Stark for making it vacuum seal to him after he got into it. Ned didn’t even want to think about how long it would take for Peter to get the suit on and off if it started out completely skintight.

As Peter finished flapping his sleeves wildly to get his fingers into the gloves, Ned reached out to grab a handful of material in the general vicinity of the butt. He held on tightly as the suit sucked in, perfectly molding to Peter’s body, before letting it go with a satisfying snap.

Peter yelped loudly and grabbed his rear, jumping so high, he knocked another ceiling tile out of place.

“Jeez, Ned!” His attempt at anger dissipated instantly into a grin. “Every fricking time.”

Ned fist-pumped the air and reached out for their handshake. They knocked hands and arms and finished it off with finger guns before Ned stared reverently at his palm.

“I still can’t believe I have a secret handshake with Spider-Man.”

Peter rolled his eyes and pulled on his mask. “You have a secret handshake with _me,_ Ned. We’re the same person,” he said, voice muffled by fabric.

“It’s still awesome,” Ned said firmly.

Peter did his huffy little laugh, the one Ned knew showed just a glimpse of his teeth, then coolly shot two webs up to fix the ceiling. He marched to the window and threw it wide, looking back and forth before jumping out.

Twin hisses indicated the firing of his web-shooters, and Peter, now Spider-Man, Ned supposed, swung out into the afternoon heat.

There was a quick crackle in Ned’s earpiece before Peter’s voice came through.

“‘Kay, Ned. You ready?”

“Go for Ned.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s do this!”

Ned opened a new window on his laptop and bumped his volume to let the dulcet tones of the police scanner drone into the room. He opened his map on the opposite side of his screen, where a small white dot slid nimbly through the city.

“I’ve got eyes on you now,” Ned confirmed.

“Dude. Creepy.”

“Uh huh. Oh, hey. Incoming Pete— Spider-Man. Scanner says to head for the corner of Britton and Hampton.”

“On my way. What’s going on? A fire? Armed robbery? Hit and run?”

Ned turned up the volume of the police scanner. “Uh… looks like a uh… a grab-and-go pickpocket.”

Peter’s tongue clicked in Ned’s ear. “Aw, man. Come on. That’s totally lame.”

“The pickpocket got a wallet? With pictures of her grandkids inside?”

“Right. Right.” Peter’s breathing was starting to pick up. Ned could hear his web-shooters firing double-time. “Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Right.” There was a whooshing over the comm, doubtlessly Peter free-falling as he made his approach. “Just, making the world.” A thud and a grunt that certainly wasn’t Peter. “A better place. Yoink. Thank you.” Brief sounds of a further scuffle. “One photograph.” Webs hissed to most likely bind the thief. “At a time. Alright. We’re all done here. Ned, send an anonymous tip that the wallet’s at Baxter and Hampton, along with the bad guy. But, like. Use a better term than ‘bad guy.’”

“Done and done. I used ‘culprit.’”

“Cool. That works. What’s next?”

“Public indecency at the Target on Queens?”

Peter groaned. “Fine. It’ll have to do.”

By the end of the night, Spider-Man stopped two more petty thefts, saved a cat from a tree, and caught an important legal document that had been caught up by a particularly stubborn breeze.

Ned had finished his homework in his downtime, and thanks to their reading, relaying, and dictation routine, had helped Peter get a good headstart on his own.

“‘Kay, Ned. I’m heading back now.”

“Sure thing. Window’s open.” Ned closed his map and scanner. “Dude, MJ’s got the Decathlon webpage looking pretty sweet.”

“Mm?” Peter hummed over his panting. “You’ll have to. Show me. In a sec here.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s like, got our group photo, and the club roster and stuff. Upcoming events… Whoa. Peter, did you know we had a practice event this weekend?”

“What?! For real? Aw, man, there’s no way. Mr. Stark is coming back on Saturday, and like, I haven’t seen him in forever since he moved upstate. I can’t miss him!”

“Yeah, well. Tell that to MJ; not me.”

Outside, a click was the only warning Ned got before Spider-Man slid smoothly through the window into the bedroom.

Peter ripped his mask off immediately and gasped for air. He took two heavy steps over to the bed before flopping into a sprawl next to Ned.

“I should probably work out more. Endurance and stuff.”

“Peter, we have gym, like, five times a week.”

He rolled over onto his back, draping a red and blue arm over his eyes. “I mean an actual work out. Where I can try.”

Ned reached down to pat Peter’s head, where his hair was sticking up every which way from sweat and the mask. “If you need a personal trainer, I’m happy to volunteer.”

Peter moved his arm from his face to reach up and squeeze Ned’s hand twice. “Thanks, Ned. You’re the coolest guy I know.”

Ned beamed.

“Welp.” Peter swung his legs into air, then dropped them to allow their momentum to wrench him upright. “I’m taking a shower.”

Shutting the lid of his laptop, Ned leaned forward with a grin, and enjoyed the view of his friend’s costume-related struggle.

When Peter got back, clean and smelling like Aunt May’s pomegranate shampoo, Ned had gathered up his things and shoved the Spider-Man suit back up into the ceiling.

“Good work tonight,” Ned congratulated him.

“You too, Ned. Couldn’t do this without you.”

The comment hung heavy in the air. They both knew Karen was objectively more capable of handling Ned’s part of the job, but Peter had insisted Ned take over the navigational portion of her work anyway.

“It’s not the same as when you do it,” he’d said nervously, hands twisting in his too long sleeves that cleverly hid his web-shooters from view. “She helps with web configurations and fight patterns but… You’re my guy in the chair, Ned.”

Ned had a suspicion it had something to do with the night of homecoming, when Peter had gone off to battle evil in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. When Peter had realized he couldn’t rely on his suit alone anymore. When Peter had only had Ned in his ear to help guide him through Queens.

“I’m honored to be Spider-Man’s sidekick,” he said sincerely, standing straighter with his backpack on one shoulder.

“You’re not my sidekick. You’re like, my lifeline.” Peter had a matching grin spread over his face.

When Ned hugged him to say goodbye, he could feel Peter’s still damp hair where it curled at his neck.

“Ned?” called Aunt May as she stepped into the hallway. “Is Peter back yet?”

“Hi, Aunt May. I’m back. I’m back.” Ned transferred Peter to Aunt May’s arms.

“Anything broken this time? Should I be driving to Ned’s or the clinic?”

“No no no! Ned’s. I’m good. Just a scratch from a cat that, uh… it’s here, somewhere. Might’ve already healed, actually.”

She knocked him gently on the head and turned toward Ned. “Alright then. The May train is leaving the station. All aboard or you’ll get left behind in Peter’s sweat-smelling room.”

Ignoring Peter’s protests that he’d Febreeze it later, Ned shook his head. “You really don’t have to drive me, Aunt May. It’s only a short walk.”

“Ned, it’s late and dark and I want to go to bed knowing you’re home safe. Knowing _both_ of you are safe. Let me take care of my boys please.”

“Thank you,” Ned beamed, and they filed out the door to the car.

Just before he got out at his stop, May smiled at him. “You’re an honorary Parker, you know,” she said, reaching back to squeeze his shoulder. Ned tilted his head left and right as he smiled, Peter agreeing from the backseat.

“Yeah, well. Peter’s an honorary Leeds too.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest,” Aunt May said with love.

Ned climbed out of the car, transitioning smoothly into his handshake with Peter. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Ned stood in his doorway and waved until the car turned the corner and was gone. Then he went straight inside to look at the decathlon group photo again. The group stood awkwardly on the stair-stepped risers, squished together in that forced way that only a photographer who keeps insisting they get closer could accomplish. On the far left, he and Peter had their arms slung around each other. MJ looked down at them, one riser higher, a soft smirk on her face that was closer to a smile than anything Ned had seen on her in person.

Ned poked his screen right on Peter’s face.

Stupid Peter Parker and his dumb smiling face. A face that went around saying they were best friends and that he loved Ned.

Ned fell asleep with his laptop open to Peter’s yearbook picture on the screen. He noticed a host of dirty fingerprints on his normally clean screen when he threw his laptop into his backpack the next morning.

“Bye, mom!” Ned called as he jogged out the door and headed for the corner. Peter came barreling toward it from the other direction, _just_ beating Ned to the street sign by a couple seconds.

“Hey, Ned,” he laughed, and Ned punched him in the arm.

“Hey yourself, Peter.”

They rode the subway to school, with Peter trying to finish his last few math problems using his hand for a clipboard.

“Crap,” he muttered under his breath as a lurch transformed a seven into a four.

Ned offered Peter a textbook to write on and he accepted it thankfully, but it didn’t make graphing any easier. With a sigh that was barely audible in the noisy car, Peter toed off his right shoe and sock. After shooting Ned a look that screamed not to say anything, he stuck his foot to the side of the train wall and laid the book on his thigh for enough stability to draw an accurate hyperbola.

Ned nodded smugly. “Sick move.”

Peter was still finishing the last problem when the bell rang, but the homework was done in time to turn in, and as far as he was concerned, Peter thought that was good enough.

“How do you think you did on the trig quiz?” Peter asked as they stopped by their lockers to stow their books and backpacks for gym.

“Eh. Okay. I ran out of time to double check the extra credit, so I don’t know if I’m looking at a one hundred or a one oh five percent.”

“Mm. Same.”

The squeak of expensive Michael Jordan’s on linoleum made Ned look up. 

“Uh oh. Transphobe alert. Intersection of science hall and main. Approaching fast.”

Peter had just enough time to snort a laugh and hipcheck Ned before Flash called out to him.

“Hey! Penis Parker!”

Peter set his jaw minutely. “Come on, Ned. Let’s get to the changing room.”

Flash sidestepped directly into his path, and Ned watched Peter stare him down, unflinchingly.

“I’m not in the mood, Flash. Stop it.”

Hands up in mock surrender, Flash sighed and looked as sarcastically apologetic as was possible. “I’m not trying to pick a fight. Just saying I hope you’re a better dancer than you seem like you’d be, or your perfect GPA is gonna tank during the line dancing unit.”

“It’s not about being a good dancer. It’s about trying your best and being a team player,” said Ned.

Peter nodded his agreement.

“Eh,” Flash said with a shrug. “I just hope you have better moves than the ones you used at homecoming. Oh wait… The only move I saw was you running away from your date.”

Peter’s fists were clenched at his sides as he clearly fought the urge to show Flash some of the _actual_ moves he’d used on homecoming night.

Ned reached over and grabbed one of his hands, squeezing twice at they usually did. The tension instantly dissipated from Peter’s form, and he reverted to himself again, tucking in his lips and avoiding eye contact.

The exchange attracted Flash’s attention. “That’s a lot of Spider-man merch you’ve got there, Leeds. Binder, pencil case, t-shirt. It’s not making Parker jealous, is it? You’ve been wearing as many Spider-man shirts as a girl trying to show off her new boyfriend by stealing his jackets.”

There was a scoff, and then MJ was pushing past a freshman boy to say, “Wow. Nice comeback there, _Eugene._ Especially from someone who still drives his nearly totaled car because ‘Spider-Man’ used it.”

“He did! I swear! They found it by a warehouse!”

“Because that’s definitely not where a car thief would ditch it. And everyone knows Spider-man steals cars _all_ the time.”

Flash knew a battle he couldn’t win, and he dumped his own backpack in his locker and hurried for the changing rooms.

“Thanks, Michelle,” Peter cracked.

“What. I didn’t do it for you.” She stuck her nose slightly in the air and walked away. Her shoelaces were untied, her AP style book was under her arm, and the crowd parted for her to walk through.

Ned let out a low whistle. “Now that’s power.”

As they headed to the boys’ changing room, Ned gave one last squeeze to Peter’s hand before letting go.

“Hey, Peter. You good?”

“Hmm? Yeah. Yeah. Mmhm. I’m good. Totally fine.” Peter finished with a slightly crooked, unconvincing half-smile, but Ned let it go anyway.

As they changed, other boys filed in around them, though Ned and Ned alone saw the way Peter covertly slipped off his web-shooters and tucked them in his gym bag to leave by the bleachers. Gym clothes were no good for hiding things up your sleeves.

They joined the others inside the gymnasium. The huge black television was already rolled out, and a grainy VHS Captain America flickered on the screen, trapped in place by the pause button.

Coach Wilson was just beginning to describe the first part of the dance unit when Peter let out a soft gasp and sat up ramrod straight.

He got a few weird looks, but Ned was more concerned by his friend’s pale, bloodless face as he raised an arm to inspect it.

Despite the muggy heat of the gym, Peter’s arm was covered in goosebumps; all the little hairs standing on end.

He stumbled to his feet, and Ned had just opened his mouth to call to him when the glass windows high near the ceiling shattered, admitting five men on cables, each armed with bright, glowing weapons that Ned _definitely_ remembered from the whole Vulture mess.

“Everybody get down!” Peter yelled, because he had zero self-preservation and a heroic streak as big as Flash’s ego.

Kids were screaming and Coach Wilson was diving for cover behind the bleachers, and all Ned could see was Peter, looking small and weak in a ratty t-shirt and basketball shorts and bare, bare wrists.

He was yelling and shouting to get the men’s attention, racing to the opposite side of the room, and the whole gym class got a front row view of a four-pronged energy director lifting Peter Parker into the air and throwing him across the gym into the opposing wall, where he crumpled limply.

“Oh, he’s dead. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” croaked Flash hoarsely next to Ned. “They just killed Peter Parker.”

But Peter stumbled up to his feet, body tense in a ready position.

“Holy _shit._ How is he still alive?” Flash was screaming.

“Ned!” Peter called, and Ned froze. “You’re my lifeline, remember?” Then he charged straight at them, just to be predictably grabbed again and smashed into the ground repeatedly.

“Who… are… you?” Peter croaked between impacts.

“Does the name ‘Mac Gargen’ mean anything to you?”

As Peter hung suspended in midair, his jaw dropped. “You… you-you-you you were on the, the ferry! Toomes’ buyers!”

“Yeah, well, he says hello. From prison.”

“Toomes!” Peter croaked. “He told you who I am?”

“Nah. He claimed he didn’t know anything. Said if he did, you’d already be dead. Your little website is what clued us in.”

“Website? I don’t have a—a website.” He turned dinner plate sized eyes towards Ned again, mouthing “lifeline.”

The man with the laser cannon laughed. “Your little decathlon website. With your team roster.”

Lifeline! Peter mouthed.

It was hard to hear over Flash’s incoherent shouting and the muffled gasps of the other students.

Lifeline, Peter’s mouth said. Peter sure had a nice mouth.

Lifeline.

Line.

Webs! Right!

Bare wrists.

Ned stood quickly and sprinted for the gym bag labeled “PARKER” in black Sharpie, Peter’s distracting grunts in the background.

He reached inside and found the shooters, curling them into his hands.

“Peter! Are you sure about this?”

One of the men turned toward Ned, raising his weapon as well. Ned was fairly sure this one would do a lot worse than just throw him.

“Ned! Please!” Peter’s voice cracks made it that much harder to concentrate, but Ned raised his hands steadily and aimed: one at the man targeting him and one just above Peter’s torso.

He fired and yanked the gun away from himself. Peter snagged the other web with a leg and pulled. The web-shooter flew across the room and he caught it nimbly, slipping it on his wrist.

“What the—” The students behind Ned gasped as they looked on from behind the bleachers.

Flash pointed wildly. “Ned is Spider-Man?!?”

Cindy smacked him on the head and manually turned his face toward the scene beyond Ned, where Peter had grabbed his second web-shooter and was doing a succession of backflips while wrapping three of the intruders together and attaching them to dangle from the ceiling a few feet above the ground.

“Oh my god. No fucking way.”

“Way,” Ned nodded with a huge grin stretching his face.

For all the times Ned _heard_ Peter’s patrols, he rarely got to see him in action, a blurry YouTube video three days later notwithstanding. 

It was incredible to see him fight in person, even if Peter’s wide, frightened eyes and awful gym short wedgie weren’t nearly as imposing as the Spider-Man suit.

He webbed the guy with another enhanced shocking fist on the shoulders and used the strands to reel him in quickly, kicking out at his chest at the same time. When he was suitably winded, Peter spun to the last guy, tripping him up and swinging him into a wall before binding him too.

“Now,” Peter said in a hoarse, choked voice that reminded Ned of the internal battering he had just taken, “we’re going to try an interrogation again, and it’s gonna go a whole lot better than last time. How did a decathlon website tell you where to find me?”

The tallest of Gargen’s men spit on the floor. “Come on now. Spider-Man only operates out of Queens in New York, but the one time he’s in Washington D.C. he saves a group of high school decathlon students from Midtown? Tell me that’s not suspicious.”

Peter swallows hard and runs his hands through his hair. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You used the roster list to narrow it down.”

“Mmhm. The only two who weren’t on the rescue list were Michelle Jones and Peter Parker. And it’s fairly obvious what that means.”

Michelle scoffed from where she hadn’t moved from her seat in the bleachers, book open in her lap. “I’m almost offended that you think I couldn’t be Spider-Man.”

Gargen’s man laughed. “If you were, you’d be far more effective.”

“Hey, man,” Peter whined. “Not cool.”

Ned slipped another hand into Peter’s gym bag and felt around for the suit’s soft silky fabric. “Here, Peter,” he said, walking it over to him.

With a glare toward Flash, Peter stripped down and started to pull on his Spider-Man suit. If Ned shifted to help hide him from view, well that was his own prerogative.

Peter vacuumed the body portion and turned to Ned again. “There’s gonna be more of them. Soon. When these guys don’t check in, they’ll know something’s wrong and send a bigger group. I gotta be ready.”

“Good luck, Spider-Man,” Ned said with a grin, sticking out a hand for a fist bump.

But then Peter was ignoring it and reaching past to wrap Ned in a tight hug, and it just made sense, total sense, for Ned to realign their faces and just… kiss him.

It was fast and sweet and it shattered Peter’s chronically concussed brain in a million little irreparable parts.

“Uh, sorry. Was that weird? That was weird wasn’t it,” Ned backpedaled.

Peter just stared back, eyes wide and head shaking. “Nah. No. No, it was like. Not even a big deal. That was… great. Like really cool, dude. It’s good.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Don’t you have more people to fight?”

“Fight? Right. Right, that’s right. I’m gonna…” Peter pointed in the direction of the open windows at the ceiling.

“Yeah, you probably should.”

“Then I’m gonna…” Peter stumbled over his own foot as he pointed nervously at Ned.

“Uh huh. First you might want that mask on.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I might.” He pulled it on crooked, with a single eye in the center of his face. He adjusted it quickly and turned back towards Ned. “So… are we? Are we a… a thing now?”

“I mean, we can be. Sounds cool.”

“Cool. Yeah, cool. Okay, we’re totally a thing. Good. Great! I’ll see you tonight for patrol, then?”

Ned beamed and initiated their handshake. “See you tonight, man.”

“See ya!”

Peter shot a web to the ceiling and swung out a window with practiced ease.

Still smiling, Ned turned back to his classmates and looked directly at Flash.

“Anyway, yeah. I’m _definitely_ dating Spider-man right now. And Peter _definitely_ isn't jealous.”

Flash looked like he was about to be sick.

This was the coolest day of Ned’s life.

**Author's Note:**

> friendships leading to relationships so smoothly that you hardly notice a difference?
> 
> yeah that's my jam


End file.
